Everyone Bleeds
by Vixen2004
Summary: One: He did not kidnap me, I followed him. Two: He does not out smart me, I let him win. Three: He is not attractive, I liked Sora. Like. I mean I LIKE Sora. Damn Pyromaniac. Kairi X Axel.
1. Chapter One

_Everyone Bleeds_

_Chapter One_

"Do you want to die?"

I blinked in rapid succession.

"Excuse me?"

His face contorted into its infamous scowl.

"Do you want to die or not?"

And that's where my life began; at the moment that question was posed. I'd like to say I led a fulfilling existence up until that point, that I contributed in some small sense to the world around me and that my life actually held meaning.

It didn't.

I was your typical damsel in distress who couldn't even protect her own internal body organs (commonly known as her heart) and spent day in and day out pining over the loss of her two best friends as she stared poetically into the blazing sunset with her sad teary eyes.

Yup. That was me.

I needed a life.

Unfortunately, this wonderful dawning of thought didn't occur to me until sometime after the fact I was dumped on Destiny Islands after being whisked away to worlds I didn't even know existed outside of my own little tropical bubble.

Excuse the impending tirade but I was tired of sitting on my scrawny little ass all day while Sora was out saving the universe and I could do nothing in my spare time but write angsty poetry and tan.

Talk about pathetic.

Before you write me off as a heartless snitch, understand that pent up anger and regret is all part of the so called grieving process. I think my vulgar riots were set off by none other than insane worry. Worry that they may be dead, worry that they may never come home, worry that they may simply move on and forget about me...

So yes, of course after the incident I was a train wreck. I cried my eyes out like any teenage girl hopelessly in love would do. I soaked the pillow, I bled my mascara, and I didn't even wash my hair for about a month.

Okay, maybe not a month.

But still, life was over as I knew it. My innocence was gone and I was left to pick up the pieces of a broken home. Yeah, I stared at the sunset. Yeah, I wrote the poetry. Yeah, I lost about fifteen pounds. But you would have too so I don't wanna hear it.

I think the foundation of this newly discovered rage was provoked by the fact I was becoming exactly what I never wanted to be, exactly what I was always perceived as. The tragic girl who was incapable of taking care of herself. The charity case. The sympathy ward. The poor thing that lost everything she had.

At first, it was comforting. Knowing people cared helped ease the pain. But after a month, reality hits you. The harshness of the situation finally sinks in and you realize no matter what anyone says, it won't bring them back.

And then you're stuck staring at the sunset realizing this and it can make you rather angry.

I was never a patient person. I couldn't wait for them forever. Yet I refused to give up on them. Those sunset dazes quickly turned from melodramatic occasions to fuming fits of pent up emotions. I knew I needed to help them, and I couldn't. I simply couldn't. There was no way off this island. Except for that raft.

The mere memory of the fun we shared building that thing made me burst out in tears and cry. Again.

And there I was. Sobbing my eyes out. You can't really blame me, but it's hideously embarrassing. Especially when you know darn well you're safe and sound. If anyone should be crying its Sora, who's facing the threshold of death every day.

Yeah, I try to hide my emotions, but I suck at it.

I'm devastated. Enraged. Sick with worry. The whole package deal.

I think I tried to write a poem about it once but it was crap.

Whoever said poetry is therapeutic should be shot. And I believe the supplier of that info was none other than Selphie...

I refuse to wallow is self pity. I refuse to let my friends die. I refuse to sit here and do nothing. I refuse a lot of things. But refusing gets you no where. Except to maybe a dock where you can pine over another sunset.

And that doesn't help matters any either.

So wiping my tears away for the kazillionth time, I glared intently at the water below, knowing I was as helpless as I looked. My contorted visage stared up at me, and I could do nothing but stare right back. I chose to obliterate the reflection by jabbing my foot through the image, sick of staring at the pale, ivory, doe eyed girl that is me.

I'm trying to build defenses. I'm trying to get on with my life. I'm trying to be all tough and sarcastic on the outside. It's not working. I'm still the measly sap of romantic goo I was always was, and nothing will ever change that. I can pretend all I want. It won't go away.

But God, I just don't want to be alone.

So I suppose that brings us up to the current day. Where my life was facing a threatening proposal of death and I wasn't doing so much as blinking an eye. I suppose I had finally become numb. Nothing could be worse than sitting on this God Forsaken island waiting for the ocean to swallow me up whole. Absolutely nothing.

Or so I thought.

But I was naïve then, more so than I will ever admit, and being whisked away by a guy threatening to kill me seemed like a divine intervention of the sort.

Did I know who he was? No.

Did I care?

All that mattered was I was going to go somewhere other than this. Somewhere hopefully closer to them…

When my so called captor realized he wasn't going to get an answer, he threw a weary glance over his shoulder, scanning the deserted beach for whoever was chasing him. Urgency chiseled into every feature of his face, he snatched my bony wrist and huskily whispered in my ear, "You're coming with me."

I knew better than to argue.

So there I was, being half dragged, half lugged down the beach that I had pranced upon so many times in my previous childhood. I guess you could consider this a kidnapping of sorts, though come to think of it I wasn't exactly protesting.

I believe my mind was racing at this point. I was in a state of physical shock but mentally I was screaming bloody murder. Who knew another routine trip to stare devotedly into the sunset would turn out to be such a harshly terminated endeavor?

Eventually my vocal chords decided to cooperate, and I found myself choking out the words, ". . .who?"

A sneer was thrown my way, a very intimidating one at that.

"Does it matter?"

I shook my head in response.

Does _anything_ matter anymore?

His grasp on my wrist tightened firmly, and I could have sworn I heard my tendons cracking. Good Heavens, what had I just gotten myself into?

No one was in sight. It was as desolate and lonely as ever. Except for this ... _thing_ ... dragging me down the beach. Now that I think about it, I suppose I could have screamed. Not that anyone would have heard me. But I could have at least made a feeble attempt. Though you and I both know, deep down, this was the best thing that could happen to me.

"Sora. . .?" I questioned.

I wasn't even capable of making a coherent sentence. No wonder my poetry sucked.

"Yeah, I know him," the man replied, still casting glances over his shoulder.

Oh score.

". . .and Riku?"

"Too well."

Who the hell was this guy?

"Will you...help me find them?"

"No offense sweetheart, but I don't think you want to."

I tore my arm away. For some reason, being called sweetheart from anyone other than Sora made my blood boil to quiet and alarming degree, and not many people are gifted in making my body temperature rise like he just did.

"I am not your sweetheart!" I snarled menacingly. Well, as menacingly as I knew how to be. I'm a little twig with doe eyes and pouty lips. Can't really say I've sent shivers down anyone's spine before.

"I'm sorry, but would you rather be left behind?"

"...no..."

"Then I'll call you whatever the hell I want."

He resumed his previous iron grasp around my wrist.

I felt the sharp tug of desperation as I was lugged forward yet again. I kept trying to steal glances under the massive hood my new acquaintance was shrouding himself under but it was to no avail. All I could make out was...well, nothing.

The creature's well defined lips submerged from under his disguise from time to time and I saw the hint of glistening white teeth—the kind you see on those perfected dental commercials for Crest Multi Care and the like. I knew nothing of the rest of his face, but from what I could tell his mouth was exceedingly attractive.

Sand was seeping into my sneakers as I stumbled down the beach to destination unknown. It was insanely uncomfortable but complaining to your kidnapper about bodily discomfort just seemed...wrong.

"Could you be any slower?"

I looked up through my disheveled bangs.

"Yes," I answered honestly.

He did ask, after all.

I couldn't see his eyes, but I could just imagine they were performing a mocking role in their sockets.

"Where are we going?" I finally managed to ask, clearing my throat numerous times before inquiring my captor.

"To my crappy ship."

Under normal circumstances, that response would have provoked some sort of amusement out of me, but considering I had just been taken hostage, humor ceased on the forerunner of my mind.

He was leading me off into the lushly populated foliage now; away form the sea side and the slowly distinguishing sunset.

"Ya know, I don't see anyone following us," I mused, adrenalin pumping through my veins regardless of the obvious lack of blood thirsty miscreants.

"They are," he responded, so sure of himself.

I suppose he knew better than me.

It was then that we reached a primitive clearing housing non other than the aforementioned "crappy ship" I was being blindly led to. And lemme tell you, the previous adjective could have won the understatement of the year. The metal scraps appeared to be held together by nothing more than super glue. I was half expecting him to whip out a stash of masking tape and tinker with the dilapidating remains of the ship before taking it anywhere. Though in reality, it wouldn't have mattered if he used sticky tack or chewing gum—anything would have been an improvement. I was surprised this man was able to get the hunk of junk off the ground let alone travel to different worlds on it.

Then the terrifying thought hit me.

I had to ride in this thing.

Aw, crap.

My ever so gentle captor must have seen the look of alarm gracing my features for he considerately added in for good measure, "It's not _that_ crappy."

I squeaked in response.

He tore open the hatch and began to shove me in even before the walkway had finished its descent onto the ground. At this moment I think my mind snapped. Literally. I wouldn't be surprised if it were actually audible. Up until this point I had been going through the motions in a sort of haze, like this were all some twisted dream and I would wake up any second. But being pushed onto the transport made me come to my senses and realize that this was not a night time trip to la la land, this was reality. And in this current reality I was seriously screwed.

I clumsily whirled around on my colossal feet, trying in vain to keep my balance on my Jell-O like knees as they knocked together without my consent.

"Wait, wait, wait, _wait_!" I demanded, throwing the man's arms off of me. "Just what do you think you're doing with me anyway?"

"Saving your ass," he coolly replied, unaroused by my sudden outburst.

"Well has it ever occurred to you that perhaps my ass isn't in need of saving?"

There was a smirk playing on his lips.

"But it is."

Oh, it annoyed me to no end when he did that. Stupid know it all, acting like he was always right and his ways were non negotiable.

I begged to differ.

"Will I ever be coming home?"

Another smirk. Wider and more evident this time.

"Depends on if they kill you or not."

"Kill? _Me_?"

What had _I_ ever done to anyone?

"That's the plan," he explained, seeming as though he was deriving some sort of twisted enjoyment out of my spectacle. I was in the right frame of mind to kick him in his balls and inform him that my mass hysteria was not being put on for his viewing pleasure.

"Wait—who, why?"

"Do you really wanna go over this now?" he questioned with a sigh.

My eyes darted around the clearing, trying to spot our invisible enemies intent on taking my life for reasons unknown. Concluding that perhaps my eyes were not the best thing to rely on, I answered with a quick horizontal jerk of my head and gave myself up to my much more informed superior.

"Alright then, that solves that. Get in."

His briskness was very unsettling. This seemed to routine for him. Though I don't know how a situation like this could ever become routine. But I didn't feel like wasting the time to ask.

I was rammed into the ship the minute I turned around. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for him and patience was not a virtue of his. Now, I never actually did see these so called enemies, and for a moment I began to doubt if they even existed. But I didn't want to risk finding out. Suppose they were real? I wouldn't be of any help to Sora and Riku if I were six feet under and pushing up daisies.

Though taking my chances with this guy didn't seem all that appealing at the moment, either.

Before I could second guess my previous actions, the man had bolt locked the door and thrown himself into the cockpit. He was moving awfully fast for someone running from false enemies.

The ship gave a violent lurch and sent me flying into the nearest metal wall. I knocked my head hard against the framework and was seeing stars for the next ten minutes. You'd think this guy would at least have the human decency to offer the poor girl a seat belt. I guess he assumed I'd fend for myself. Little does he know I have no practice in doing the latter.

"Wait . . . I don't wanna do this anymore," I groggily muttered, gingerly rubbing my head with a clammy palm. The stars encircling my cranium were magnifying in size.

"A little too late for that sweetheart."

"No...no it's...not..."

I was losing touch with reality.

I'd like to blame what happens next on head trauma or at the very least some sort of deranged medical explanation, but we all know the truth. Due to the sudden onslaught of events, I did what every other protégée damsel of distress has fallen culprit to.

I passed out.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

I dreamt of my mother.

I remembered how happy she was when she found me zonked out on the beach after plummeting God knows how far from the skies above. I was sitting on the shore, like I had never left Destiny Islands in the first place, contemplating what was to come of the Sora I had just said good bye to five minutes ago. I could still feel his warmth in my hands and his breath on my neck. If I closed my eyes real tight, I could almost trick myself into believing he was still here.

I was passively hugging my myself when my mother found me, bony arms wrapped around my torso, knees drawn up against my woefully under developed chest, as I sat in the damp sand with my chin on my knees, overlooking the waves I had grown so accustomed to.

My arrival was a huge ordeal. Apparently I fell from the sky like a comet and managed to make quite a ruckus doing so. I never took any heed of it; I was in such a state of mixed emotions that I never really took the time to fully appreciate the stunt I had pulled. Becoming a humanized firework was never really an ambition of mine.

My mother—the gorgeous woman she is and always will be—was the first one to find me meditating on the beach. Her face brimming with euphoria, she threw herself at my feet and wrapped me up in her warm embrace. She was always such a woman of class and dignity, and seeing my mother throw herself down onto the soggy sand and toss out every bit of self image she possessed—simply to _hold_ me—is an image that will always prevail in my heart.

I can recall being crushed against her warm countenance, breathing in the smell of roses and hair spray and honey suckle as her black mascara bled from her cheeks to mine. She kissed the crown of my head and repetitively whispered into my hair, "I love you I love you I love you."

"Mama, I'm okay," I can vaguely remember reassuring her. "Everything's okay now. I'm here Mama, I'm here."

She promised never to let me go again. I smiled and said I never left her in the first place.

That was all we had time for before the entire entourage of Destiny Islands clamored over to the spot where I had crash landed. I felt like a tourist attraction, but the place was rather deprived of excitement with the exception of the previous Heartless incident, so it's to no surprise that I was such a spectacle.

My two ton eyelids were slowly beginning to flutter open. No, not flutter. Flutter is too dainty of a word. I felt like I was stoned and to perform any graceful actions while under the influence is nearly impossible. I practically pried the accursed things open with my bare hands. Taking in my surroundings was a terrible reality check after reminiscing about my mother's nurturing embrace. All I could think about was her tender caress, and what a mess she would be when she found out I was missing...again.

Oh God, what have I just gotten myself into?

At first, I thought I was bleeding, for my vision was inhabited with a ghastly shade of red. As my eyes came to focus, I slowly began to realize the redness was gradually beginning to form itself into multiple spikes arranged on top of a partly obscured head in the cockpit. I squinted in the utter darkness of space and tried to reassure myself that my eyeballs were, in fact, not bleeding, and I was simply just staring at my captor's rather unsightly mane.

I emitted a groan from in between my unpoetically chapped lips and awaited a response.

There was a cough of acknowledgment as the man paused and slowly turned around to face me. His eyes were the most piercing enigma of green I had ever come in contact with and I almost felt as though he were boring twin holes through my forehead. His strong nose jutted out from a rather flawless ivory complexion and those same lips had a look of amusement etched into their corners. His hair was more unruly in the front than the back, and the spikes could almost be classified as safety hazards if one was in a close enough proximity.

"Ya know, there is a bed back there," he smirked, taking in my sprawled out position on the metal floor of his ship.

I glared.

He sighed, brushing his bangs out of his face with the back of his gloved hand and watched as I attempted to drag myself to my feet. My head was a bowling ball and my limbs were spaghetti. It was not a graceful motion to say the least.

"I dunno how many times I told them I didn't want babysitting missions..." he breathed, tinkering with a few random controls as he resumed his previous position.

I stumbled closer to him, more than a little irked about his previous comment.

"I am not a kid!" I growled, still not fully with it and collapsing haphazardly into the seat next to him.

He quirked an eyebrow in skeptism and let out a rich laugh that sent reverberations through out the ship.

His sudden peals of joy startled me, but I refused to crack a smile.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"You," he answered simply. "How old do you claim to be, anyway?"

"Almost sixteen," I shot out, crossing my stick like arms over my lacking chest. "And just what do you mean by _claimed_?"

"Everybody lies," he muttered off hand, shifting the air pressure gauge and staring absent mindedly out of the window. He tore his intent stare away from space and chose to focus it rather relentlessly on me. "You're barely fifteen, aren't you?"

I swallowed.

"Hmm, I rest my case."

I fumed. Was it really that obvious?

"Who are you anyway?" I choked out, things slowly beginning to become more focused. The softened edges around objects were beginning to disappear and my surroundings were becoming more defined.

"Axel," he provided nonchalantly, cocking his head to one side as he avoided an oncoming meteor. "Former member of the Organization and you current unfortunate escort."

"Former?" I repeated.

He ignored me.

"You're that Kairi chick I presume, correct?"

"Last time I checked," I muttered.

Axel looked at me sideways, trying not to appear like he was studying me but I knew damn well he was.

"What are you looking at?" I quipped.

Axel laughed again. His laughter was annoying me. But at the same time, though I would have scarcely admitted it at the time, it was one of the most captivating sounds I had ever heard in my entire life.

"Ya know, you're awful nasty to a person who just saved your life."

"I'm a little...preoccupied at the moment," I grumbled, realizing that I was being rather harsh. But I had just been kidnapped off my home world for the second time—willingly, granted, but still kidnapped none the less—and the dawning thought of my mother going through her own personal hell once again on my account this time was not the most rejuvenating experience by any means.

Axel lazily let his head lolly back onto the head rest of his chair as he gazed out the windshield. Upon closing his eyes listlessly, he noted in a voice full of unmistakable torpor, "You really should stop snarling. Angst doesn't suit you well sweetheart."

My head snapped up at an alarming rate.

"Do you think I want to look like this?" I cried.

"It just doesn't go with your face," Axel continued, oblivious to my previous exclamation. "I don't think God intended you to be one of those sad, teary eyed, fallen angel types."

"You believe in God?" I questioned, my voice still rough around the edges. I hadn't intended that remark to come out as harsh as it did, but I was having trouble choking back my typical onslaught of sobs threatening to take over any second now.

"Of course I do," Axel replied, eyes still closed. "Not to happy with him at the moment, I must admit. But you can't be mad at the bastard and not believe in him all at the same time."

I gawked, my looming sobs subsiding for the moment.

"Did you...just call God a bastard?"

Axel slightly opened his left eye.

"I'm sorry, was I not articulate enough for you?"

I swallowed.

"No...no, you were fine."

"Good."

It was my turn to stare aimlessly out the window, trying to comprehend Axel's odd nature. We sat there in awkward silence for a minute or two, before he abruptly popped the question, "Well, what about you?"

I slammed back to reality.

"What about me what?"

"Do you believe in God?"

I began to wring my hands uncomfortably.

"I don't see the relevance in this..."

"You're avoiding the question."

I shuddered.

"Of course I do," I came back with eventually. "I'm sorry, but why are you asking me this?"

"Maybe because I like seeing your face turn red," Axel retorted, once again resuming his shut eye position.

It occurred to me dimly if his eyes were closed he couldn't be watching the road. Or the galaxy, as it were.

Axel liked messing with my mind. I could tell. I wish I could say I had enough of a mind to mess with, but I'm so totally lacking in the intellectual arena it isn't even funny. I'm not one for comebacks and sarcastic quips, partially because I never had any practice. I can fume and cry and rant and rave, but can't any other teenage girl? I wasn't anything special. And I don't see why my religious beliefs were of such keen interest to him. Maybe he really did just want to see my face turn red. Or maybe he was bored. Or maybe he's just flat out weird. Or maybe he knows I'd never open up to him unless he catches me off guard like that. I had no idea, and I wasn't about to ask.

"Where are we going?" I posed, barely audible.

"To infinity and beyond."

Why did that sound so freakishly familiar? Sora must have said it once.

"You're not much a talker," I noted.

"Neither are you."

"I have good reason to be."

Axel groaned melodramatically.

"Oh here we go again. Let's see which one can outsmart the other and get in the last word. I'm gonna win, you do know that, right?"

I preformed and involuntary 'hmmph' in response, at a desperate lack of comebacks. Surprise, surprise.

"Well, we'll just see about that."

"You are so-o immature," he drawled out.

Feeling inferior and not liking it in the least, I stood up (wobbling, of course) and began to march off defiantly to the back of the ship. "I'm going to bed," I declared in a saucy manner.

Axel didn't move.

"Do you need a nightlight?"

Bawling my fists, I dashed off to the farthest room possible. I slammed the door behind me, dove into the make shift bed, smothered the pillow over my face, and cried.

Again.


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

I am an easily amused elitist. What can I say?

Not that it takes that much to amuse me, mind you. Hell, the little twit I just picked up was enough to keep me occupied. And that's saying something. I somehow doubt she's as shallow as the local kiddy pool, but currently her angsty surface is about all I can penetrate. I hope there's more under there or this is gonna be one hell of a long ride.

Larxene is going to have a field day with this. I can't wait to throw this little chicken runt in front of her and watch the fireworks display. She'll start ranting and raving, he face slowly transforming that unique shade of purple she seems to have a patent on, and I'll lazily retort with my ever so infamous reply, "So who lit the fuse on your tampon this time?"

Yeah. She hated that.

The excess cargo I had so impeccably picked up back at Destiny Islands seemed to have finally quieted down after her previous hissy fit (of which she threw with great zest and gusto; the raw emotion of the entire thing amused me, if not captivated me, largely in part because emotions are a biggie on Xemnas' big ethereal no-no list, and largely because I just found her entire personality a riot. I can't remember the last time I was so intrigued by something. It was unsettling, yet somewhat amusing.)

I by passed another crater with enough skill to make any seasoned pilot drool (even Zexion, that stoic little bastard.) Navigating the galaxy was becoming so routine for me, that even with my added theatrical flair, I was practically falling asleep at the controls. While I am very easily amused, my attention span is seriously lacking and space doesn't really captivate me all that much, I must say.

It was while I was dozing off in my chair that I heard it. That all too familiar far off sound of Katharine sniffles. (Or was it Kairi?) Bloody hell, was she _still_ crying? She delivered her tirade and marched off hours ago. If she kept this up, we'd be swimming in a sea of her own snot. And…hell, no. Just no.

I switched the controls to auto pilot, which, according to Demyx, is like putting your masculinity on hold, and sauntered down the hallway to the room where Katherine/Kairi had thrown herself into. I rapped gently on the door, waiting for a response of some sort. I wasn't expecting any hospitality, but I thought she could do better than what she eventually came up with.

"Go away."

Pure geniusness. I stand in awe.

"But you're crying," I noted, feigning concern.

"I am _not_ crying! I'm sniffling."

"Ya know, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery."

I was gonna get a good bitching for that one.

"I don't have a problem!" came the muffled persist.

"That's not what I'm hearing, sweetheart."

…The joy I derived from taunting her.

There was an aggravated groan from the other end as I heard her shout, "I am not your sweetheart!"

The metal door between us held fast, creating a much needed barrier. If we were left at it out in the open we may very well disembowel each other. Conversing through solid objects isn't something I've had much practice with in the past, but it was proving to be quite fun.

"Aw, it's not nice to toy with a boy's emotions like that...sweetheart."

If she were Larxene, I knew the door would have been thrown open and a swift kick of pain delivered to my male genitalia. However, Kairi was obviously preoccupied with something far more important than me.

And I was absolutely dying to find out what the hell it was.

"What are you doing in there anyway?" I inquired.

There was a pause.

"Do you mind?" she finally quipped. "I need some peace and quiet!"

"Why? You're obviously not sleeping."

Another groan.

"I'm trying to write a poem!"

Oh Good Lord, was she serious?

"You do realize I'll hafta read it," I informed her.

She seemed to contemplate my odd request for a moment.

"Why?"

Hm, good question.

"I just think it would be amusing, that's all."

"You find everything amusing," she buffed. I didn't need to see her face to feel the emotion on that one.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

At this point in time, I guess she couldn't resist my supreme cunning wit and dashing comments, for she actually made an effort and opened the door.

"Well?" I prodded, upon seeing her face poke through the threshold. She had on this ridiculous looking pout, but for some reason that lower lip sticking out looked rather cute on her.

I crossed my arms over my chest and prepared myself for her answer. Instead I got greeted with another question.

"Why did you bother to save me?"

I sighed.

"Do you _ever_ do as you're told?"

"Rarely," she replied. "Now answer my question."

"No. You answer mine."

"We're gonna be here all night," Kairi moaned, her bangs drifting in front of her rather captivating purple orbs.

"Well perhaps if you tried listening to me..." I muttered, my voice trailing off at the hint of suggestion.

Kairi's eyes flattened simultaneously.

"You've got testosterone leaking out of every pore in your body."

I quirked an eyebrow in response. (Which was funny, because I didn't know she was capable of provoking that reaction from me.)

"Did you write that down in one of your poems somewhere?"

"You're persona isn't worthy of my exceedingly floral adjectives."

Aw, hell. I had to laugh at that one.

"Is that what you were doing in there? Thinking of lame ass comebacks?"

I find pseudo intellectualism rather humorous. Especially hers.

Kairi had no witty comment. I was disappointed, I was half expecting an attempt I could respond in hysterics with.

"You're such a...such a numb skull!" Kairi retorted. I could tell she was beginning to close the door, for she has yet to master the art of unpredictability like me. I thrust my cloaked arm in between the threshold and the metal and snatched her lanky upper appendage in response. I yanked her towards me rather unmercifully and smirked.

"I. Saved. You." I reminded her sweetly, just incase her small yet somewhat inquisitive mind forgot. Just for good measure, I flicked her in her dainty little nose.

"Ouch!" she whined, rubbing her violated facial feature gingerly. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I can," I answered simply, turning to walk away.

I was making my way down the hallway, a little regretful about the lack of originality that went into my last quip, when I heard Kairi choke out abruptly, "I'm hungry."

I paused. Was I supposed to cook for her?

"I'm not your nanny," I muttered, mindlessly scratching the back of my neck.

"I'm perfectly aware of that," Kairi mused in a mock gossamer tone. "However, if it wouldn't be to much a hassle, would you mind directing me to kitchen so I can help myself?"

I cleared my throat. Usually damsels in distress aren't all that eager to get up and make their own dinner. The thought of being a gentleman crossed my mind, but I quickly disregarded it and opted to let her make her own food.

"It's down the hall and to the left," I indicated by pointing.

Kitchen is too complementary of a word. A room with pots and pans is more suitable. Those pots and pans are well kept, mind you, but they are seriously lacking in quantity. Come to think of it, room is probably too flattering of a word as well. A closet. There we go. A closet with pots and pans. That was my kitchen.

While I didn't hear Kairi complaining when she discovered this make shift corner, I did happen to hear a very loud squeal of distress followed by the obnoxious clamoring of various kitchen utensils upon the opening of the closet door.

I had forgotten Larxene was the last one back there.

The mental image that came into my mind was too much to bare. I found myself stifling an undeniable smirk at what followed the sonic boom. What would have provoked a rather violent slue of mollifications from any other person resulted in an interesting display of Kairi anger from the back of my ship. Her curses consisted of things like "Stupid frying pan!" and "Gosh darn it" and "Oh poopie!" While I did know Kairi was perfectly capable of swearing from past experiences, she chose to do so at the most random times.

She probably swore more in her head than out loud.

"You alright back there?" I called over my shoulder from my seat in the cockpit.

"Just friggin' peachy!" was the response I got.

"I'll take that as a yes."

o-o-o-o

Dinner was interesting. Resorting to a fold out card table and clearance rack lawn chairs, I watched as Kairi helplessly tried to dig into her frozen meat with a plastic fork. She was grasping the thing like a dagger and attacking her food like a murderer. I think my plate of choice was supposed to resemble pork chops, but I couldn't be sure.

I watched carefully as the girl continued to groan in aggravated frustration. It got to the point where she finally gave up after cracking her fork in half and asked sheepishly if I had any cereal.

"Do you want me to warm that up for you?" I questioned.

"Very funny," Kairi said under her breath. "You have no stove."

"I don't need one."

Kairi took a sip of water and glared at me over the rim.

"You don't believe me," I concluded.

Kairi shook her head.

"Alright then, I'll show you."

I stood up and pushed my seat back, which formed unpleasant scratching noises as the legs of the chair grinded against the metal flooring of my ship. Kairi winced in response and put her glass down hastily. I took up her frozen meal and held it out directly in front of me.

"What are you going to do?" she asked cautiously.

"The point of a demonstration, sweetheart, is that you don't need words."

Kairi had either grown tiresome of correcting my pronoun usage when referring to her or had given up all hope of ever reforming me, for she didn't say anything.

I extended my left hand and concentrated slightly on the palm in front of me. Almost immediately, the flame I had mentally requested began to blossom in the center of my outstretched hand and I carefully monitored the degree of heat until it had reached an appropriate temperature. Upon seeing this, Kairi lurched back in her seat and became personally acquainted with the wall adjacent to her. She emitted an ear piecing scream and began to shrivel in her chair like a dying flower. It was truly hilarious.

"It's just fire," I noted innocently.

"I can see that," she growled through viciously clenched teeth. "I don't _like_ fire."

"Well do you like frozen food?"

"...no."

"Then quit whining and observe."

I thoroughly enjoy being the center of attention, could you tell?

I waved my pyroantics above the plate and the ice slowly began to melt and drip away from the meat that was resting underneath. Pretty soon I raised the intensity of the flame and had her dinner cooked in a matter of approximately thirty seconds. I threw it in front of her, mentally scolding myself for temporarily treating her like a dog but then realizing she was too shell shocked to notice, and then returned to my previous position across from her and awaited to be lavished with praise.

Gaping like a gold fish, Kairi continued to sit there dumbfounded.

"I don't know what to say," she gulped modestly.

"A mere thank you would suffice."

She ignored my hint of gratitude.

"How did you do that?"

"Practice," I supplied haughtily, "makes perfect. I usually light other people on fire. You're lucky you got on my good side."

I was expecting a laugh of appreciation, but the wimpy one was not amused.

"So you've killed people before," Kairi remarked, her expression made of solid granite.

"I don't kill them, the fire kills them. I just light them up like Christmas trees."

To my surprise, _that_ was the comment that aroused a giggle out of my temporary companion. She finds the oddest things funny. I make her smile when I'm not trying.

"That wasn't funny," she tried to retort between swallowed giggles.

"But you're laughing."

"No, no, I wasn't. Well, I didn't mean to, anyway." Kairi dabbed her eyes with the back of her palm. Regaining her composure, she continued. "Burning has to be a horrible way to go."

"Nah, I only fry them when I want to mess with their minds. I use my shurikens when I want to get the job done."

Kairi met my glimmering gaze with her stupidified one.

"They're weapons," I informed her.

"Oh."

"…Have you ever even used a weapon?"

Kairi shook her head. I knew the answer to that one, but I figured I'd ask.

"Well then how do you protect yourself?"

"I...don't," Kairi admitted sheepishly. Her head sunk and she looked pitifully at her shoes.

"Oh, that's right. You just hide behind the guy."

Now, I've made Larxene mad before. It doesn't take that much to set that chick off. But Kairi's anger was a whole different entity entirely. I was never intimidated by the amount of anger she had provided thus far, but I suppose I set a bomb off when the last sentence graced my lips, for I found myself regretting it the minute she began to snarl.

"Just what the hell was that supposed to mean?" she hissed.

I blinked in response.

"It was only a joke. Calm down sweetheart."

"No it wasn't. It wasn't a joke. You meant that. You meant every word of that, didn't you?"

Kairi's cheeks were going from their usual rosy pink to a blood red hue. The color was beginning to infest every other part of her face as well as the transfiguration creeped throughout the rest of her body. Transfixing her daggering eyes on me, she clenched her tiny little fists into two balls of pent up power and stood up abruptly. Gritting her teeth and setting her mouth in a firm line of resolution, she swallowed hard and chucked her dinner plate at my head. She missed by a mile but I figured now was not the best time to bring up her desperate lack of aim.

"Is that all you think I am? Some helpless damsel in distress? Unable to take care of herself and forever dependent on whatever hunk of flaming manhood decided to be present at that time? Incase you forgot, I didn't _ask_ you to save me. I never asked anyone to save me, it just happens! And I get pinned as the helpless one because of it. Maybe before you start judging me you should try giving me the opportunity to kick ass by myself, okay?"

I, for once, was at a loss of words.

Upon delivering that soliloquy, Kairi stalked back off to her room, probably to go write some more angsty poetry.

"Hey, you forgot your food!" I called after her.

I was answered with a slam of the door.

Would somebody mind telling me why I feel so oddly guilty about what I just did?


	4. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_

I stabbed the paper with my pencil.

I was annoyed.

Not like that was anything drastically new, but it wasn't as common as being devastated. Since I no longer had sunsets to pine over, I had to resort to gushing out what I preferred to call poetry but what Axel would probably refer to as crap.

If only he knew I was writing about _him_.

And it was none the complimentary piece, either.

I continued to scribble on, the pressure being exerted onto my writing utensil growing stronger and stronger until I was almost _positive_ the pencil was going to snap in two anytime now. Of course, I was right, as usually I am when predicting negative outcomes (especially when they concern myself) and the pencil point chose _now_ as the impeccable timing to break off mid sentence.

Great. Now I couldn't even _write_ nasty things.

I threw the note pad across the desolate room in a wayward expression of my contempt.

"Oh, that was real mature," I heard an all too familiar voice drawl out from the cockpit. Apparently this god forsaken hunk of junk had tissue thin walls and reverberations could be heard throughout the corresponding rooms.

"Like you would know the meaning of the word!" I hollered, in all of my fourteen year old wit and intelligence.

"Are you fourteen or ten?" came the response.

I chose resolve the conflict by retorting: "You're not worth the effort."

It was greeted with the conceit: "Yeah right, that's the nice way of saying you can't think of anything."

Curse him.

Though the banter initially had no redeeming value, later it brought to mind a rather intriguing question. How old was Axel anyway? I suppose I'd ask him later, when we weren't on the verge of issuing restraining orders.

Twenty minutes passed as I tried to find something to occupy myself with. The room was dreary and bare, its initial frigidness uninviting and uncomforting. Even the bed was cold and hard. There was one dresser and one stainless steel sink. The thought of attempting suicide by drowning my head in the water basin crossed my mind, but I wanted to see Sora at least one more time before I died.

That is, if he doesn't die first.

Crap. I'm depressed again.

And now I have nothing to take my mind off it.

I almost contemplated going to the cockpit to engage in another verbal battle with Axel, simply to get my mind off of Sora. Anger is better than sadness, I must say. And Axel certainly did make me mad, if not enraged. But I had to calmly tell myself murder was not an option, something that I would most undoubtedly be tempted into committing if I left the confines of this room, so I opted to stay put just a while longer until I was no longer on the verge of homicide.

This resolution lasted approximately three minutes, until I concluded that _nothing_ could be worse than staring a stainless steel sink all day.

Ergo, I threw open the door and began to defiantly march down the hall to where my kidnapper was situated. I parted my mouth to scream vilifications, but upon opening I realized I had nothing to scream. What was I going to do once I got there? Yell at him. Yes, but yell what? He hadn't done anything, except ignore me, which can very well be just as, if not more, annoying than directly taunting but somehow much less refutable. My confidence and brazen anger seemed to simmer to nothing by the time I reached the thresh hold of the cockpit. Axel swirled around in his seat to give me a glance. I must have looked pathetic, standing there in the door frame, broken pencil in hand, gawky extremities on display, tears running down my cheeks and face red with anger and emotion that I could not adequately express.

"Can I take your order?" Axel inquired, placing his arms behind his head as if he were expecting a show he could sit back, relax, and watch.

I paused.

"Do you have a pencil sharpener?" I asked timidly. Funny how I had all intentions of biting his head off but all that I could manage to emit was a measly little squeak of a question that was not offending in the least.

"This is a gummi ship darling," Axel offered, quirking an eye brow. "Do I look like I have a pencil sharpener?"

I opened my mouth to spit something witty out, but of course, nothing came. I was being intellectually brain whooped by this ridiculously cocky pyromaniac and could do absolutely nothing about it.

"You should try being nicer," Axel continued, turning his attention back to his beloved controls after seeing that I had nothing exciting to offer (though he seemed to initially expect it, so that seemed somewhat promising as to the fact that I had potential to be witty, or at the very least amusing, if nothing else.) "After all, I did save you."

"You kidnapped me," I quipped, folding my arms over my chest. "There's a big difference. I for one don't consider---_ouch_!"

I whimpered as I felt the pointy woodened end of the pencil jab me in the fleshy part of my upper arm.

"Smooth," I heard Axel run his usual commentary. He didn't even turn around to look.

I preoccupied myself nursing my newly acquired wound.

Ha, don't you just love how terribly sheltered I am? I get jabbed by a number two pencil and I refer to it as a wound.

"I think I got a splinter," I sniveled, rubbing the puncture site gingerly.

"You mean, you _gave_ yourself a splinter," Axel corrected, in his usual haughty manner.

"Not intentionally."

"Nobody gives themselves a splinter intentionally."

"They do if they're a masochist," I muttered off hand, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Much to my unsuspecting surprise, this greatly amused Axel, and even aroused out of him a distant form of a chuckle, which sounded more like he was gargling something in the back of his throat. It was probably his laughter in denial.

"Okay, fine, you win," he admitted. "Only masochists give themselves splinters."

"So then I didn't give myself a splinter," I continued.

Now I know we were desperate. We were fighting over verb usage.

Axel heaved a sigh through his teeth, which were remarkably white, by the way.

"Okay okay, you _got_ a splinter, you didn't _give_ yourself a splinter...goodness you're annoying."

"I just think I deserve proper recognition as the receiver, not the giver. Saying I gave myself a splinter makes me sound clumsy."

Axel spun around in his chair and looked at me dead on. "But you are."

He said this was such a placid face it looked as though he could be discussing something as trivial as the weather or monkey livers. Not insulting me. I thought I was worthy of at least a change in facial expression. Apparently I was not.

"Only sometimes," I argued meekly, fidgeting uncomfortably. I felt like Axel was gawking at me as I stood there in all my teenage awkwardness, a spectacle to be judged as to whether or not I was deserving of a comment.

Such an inferiority complex got to me after awhile.

I hated how this Axel man possessed the ability to make me feel inferior to him with all of his brazen pyrotechnics and abundant masculinity.

Well, in all regardless except for one thing...

"Hey, um, Axel," I began, squinting to get a better look at his face.

Axel seemed to simmer under my intent gaze. "Can I help you?" he murmured, shifting positions.

"Are you wearing make up?"

Axel's eyes flattened simultaneously as he glared daggers, uzies, machetes, and any other weapon of mass destruction one can think of.

"War paint," he snipped, over punctuating for dramatic effect.

"Which is manly make up, right?" I teased, enjoying switching the roles for a change.

I finally had the upper hand!

"It looks better on me than you."

No I didn't.

"I'm not even _wearing_ make up," I snapped, sticking my ski slope nose high up into the pressurized air.

"That's right. You're too young."

Did this man _ever_ run out of witty repertoires? Apparently not.

I seethed in my currently demolished state. I should have stuck to staring at the stainless steel sink.

I gnawed my lower lip in deep thought before posing the next question. I was debating between going back to my boring room or striking up confrontation with Axel. Neither option seemed all that appealing, but I figured I'd save myself the trouble of walking back to my quarters and chose to stay put.

"Are you just going to stand there all day or do you plan on utilizing those vocal chords that were bestowed upon you?"

I blinked.

"Um, excuse me, I believe it was my turn to say something," I snipped, taken aback by the abrupt interruption to my mental thought process. I glared vehemently at Axel's back, for he had returned to his previous disposition of ignoring me.

"We're taking turns now?" he questioned incredulously. "Sorry to cut in. Raise your hand next time, maybe I'll call on you."

"That would require you looking at me," I retorted dryly, hands on bony hips. I am not voluptuous to say the least.

"I can't. It burns."

I ignored the insult, for I had no comeback. I desperately pitied this man's future girlfriend, or his current one, if he happened to find a female desperate enough to date a jerk like him.

I stomped over to the seat adjacent to my kidnapper. It creaked under my ninety pound weight, which initially worried me, but I couldn't let on such in front of my nonchalant personal pilot.

"I would like to know why you kidnapped me," I demanded in a brisk tone. For any other voice I contemplated using probably would not have been strong enough to earn an answer.

"No."

My mouth sagged open at the unexpected response. "Whatdya mean, _no_?"

Axel looked at me sideways and served me a judgmental once over. "I mean no, I'm not telling you."

"Well why not?!" I exploded.

"Because I like being difficult."

I glared. "You're lying," I accused.

"Everyone does."

"Doesn't mean you have to."

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't."

"...because..." I paused, raking my mind for a plausible answer. Upon finding none, I eventually blurted out, "...because I'm Kairi."

Axel stifled a chuckle. "Is _that_ how you convince guys to date you?"

My eyes widened in immediate response. "Excuse me?"

"You definitely need some better persuasion tactics."

"Has it ever occurred to you, in that sickenly hollow head of yours, that perhaps guys are interested in me because of my _personality_?"

Axel eyed my chest suspiciously.

"Well it's certainly not for anything else."

"Oh...go die you...you..._pervert_!"

Axel smirked at my previous command.

"Been there, done that sweetheart."

My mind didn't quite pick up on the innuendo laced within his last conceit. Since dying didn't register, I faultily assumed he was referring to being a pervert, which I could now whole heartedly attest to.

I suppose Axel took some minor pity on my current confused state, for he finally offered, "You're on a need to know basis, sweetheart. And right now, you don't need to know."

"So when do I get to know?"

Axel closed his eyes slowly in frustration.

"Leave that up to me."

"Is that the same as saying never?"

"No-oo..." Axel drawled out slowly, effortlessly dodging another incoming meteor. "That just means don't worry about it until I say so."

Axel definitely had a domineering personality. I wasn't in a position to argue.

We sat there for a couple moments, in that infamous awkward silence only two people completely uncomfortable with each other can obtain, when I finally settled on blurting the truly moronic for lack of anything remotely intelligent to say.

"Is this the part where we attempt to bond and I say something really deep and profound to get you to open up to me?"

Axel's eyes shifted in my direction.

"You aren't capable of saying something deep and profound."

I scowled accordingly.

"You're pissier than usual today," I keenly remarked, ignoring the fact I had known this man for less than forty eight hours.

"PMS," Axel retorted simply, face completely placid as he foretold the previous outrageous lie.

"Ha ha," I dead panned, though secretly I found his sarcasm insanely amusing. Not like I would admit such things out loud, though.

"Why do you insist on torturing me?"

"Because I've got nothing else better to do."

Tormenting Axel was rather enjoyable, much more so than I originally anticipated, especially when he's in a bad mood. His sadism was rubbing off on me. Not that I usually derive pleasure from paining other people, but when they hurt me first (make up does _not_ look better on him than me) I think there's something to be said for fair revenge.

"I'll pick you up some coloring books in Traverse Town."

"We're going to Traverse Town?" I questioned brightly, the allure of another planet fascinating me an alarming degree.

Axel sighed through his teeth. "It was a joke, you idiot."

I blinked in response to the current insult of choice.

"Wow, you really _are_ in a bad mood today."

"And you are insanely chipper for someone who was just kidnapped off their home planet."

That's because I'm this much closer to finding Sora, I thought to myself. Also: I derive great pleasure from torturing you. But some things are better left unsaid.

I fumed for a couple moments as I glared intently out the front window, bony arms crossed over my lacking chest. I didn't want to let on that I was actually enjoying myself in Axel's presence. That's all this man needs. An ego boost.

"I think I still have that splinter..." I murmured, touching my forearm gingerly.

Axel arched an eyebrow. "Was that your oh-so-discreet way of asking me to do something about it?"

"Well, it would be greatly appreciated," I admitted, looking at the brown lump wedged under my flesh. "It could get infected or something."

"I always knew your poetry would be the death of somebody."

"Oh shut up!" I quipped. "You never even read any of it!"

"I don't have to," Axel breathed. "You're not worthy of me exceedingly floral adjectives? Come on now. That isn't exactly Shakespeare."

"Persona," I corrected. "You left out the word persona. You're _persona_ is not worthy of my exceedingly floral adjectives."

"You memorize your own poetry?"

"That wasn't poetry, that was a come back."

"A lame one at that."

"Are you gonna extract this splinter or not?" I snipped, getting defensive over my literary techniques.

"Do I have a choice?"

I didn't answer, and Axel didn't push the matter further. He silently set the controls on auto pilot and rose from his seat to get a needle and some medical tape. At least, that's what I assumed.

Turns out he was only standing to summon his infamous chakrams.

He then approached me in his typical sauntering manner, looming over me with his characteristic cockiness. Only now he looked like a force to be reckoned with. Almost.

Chakrams posed in his hands, he calmly stated, "Now, this may sting a little."

"What are you going to do to me?!" I shrieked, toppling out of my chair and onto the cold metal floor. My play-it-cool façade quickly disintegrated to nothing the minute the weapons materialized. "I don't want my arm lopped off!"

"Pifft," Axel snickered. "I don't need my weapons for that. I could have ripped your arm off with my bare hands if I really wanted to."

"...comforting..." I squeaked, eyes bulging.

"I'm not one for comfort," Axel offered off hand. "Now quit being a baby and get back over here."

"Apparently you're not one for chivalry either."

"I see no reason why girls can't open their own doors."

"I wasn't referring to doors; I was referring to your manner in general."

"Do you want that splinter taken out or not?"

"Not with those things!"

Axel glared. "They are not things. They are weapons. Get it right."

"Well, whatever they are...keep them away from me!" I squealed, cowering against the far wall as Axel proceeded to approach me.

"What are you so worried about? Don't you think I know what I'm doing?"

"No!" came my emphatic reply. "Why can't you use a needle like normal people do or give me a lolly pop to suck on to keep my mind off of it?"

That's what my mother always used to do. Every time I acquired a new boo boo, I either got a popsicle or a lolly pop to stick in my mouth so I would concentrate on the tangy flavor as opposed to the fresh blood that was pouring out of my newfound wound. Though Axel didn't exactly look like the type off man who would carry around popsicles at his immediate disposal.

"Darling, I could give you plenty to suck on," he smirked, eyes glistened in light of his previous comment.

"Really?" I questioned hopefully. "You have lolly pops?"

My comrade closed his eyes in deep frustration as a chakram donning hand made its way to his forehead in dismay. "Holy hell..." he breathed out in contempt.

"Well, are you gonna take the splinter out or not?" I snipped, growing agitated at his habit of prolonging the torture I was inevitably feeling at the current moment.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered, squatting down to my sprawled out disposition on the floor. "Would it have killed you to stay in your seat?"

I chose not to answer. I was mute as Axel brought the point of his glistening chakram up to my exposed arm. Axel must have sensed my inaudible fear, for he inexplicably began to soothe me in his rather infamous, awkward fashion that emerged whenever he attempted benevolency.

"Ya know, gawking at it will only make it sting more," he explained gently.

Yes, that was benevolency him.

I squeaked in incoherent response.

The metal point began to poke and prod at my flesh, attempting to expose the piece of wood that had lodged itself within the confines of my arm. It was almost an amusing spectacle, really, if you weren't the one going through it. Here he was, a man who usually utilized such deadly weapons as wielders of destruction and chaos, using the same chakrams for such a trivial thing as removing a splinter from an adolescent, sniveling girl curled up into a ball on the floor of his ship. It was almost sweet in a sick and twisted sense, which was the closest to sweet one could get with Axel.

I think I was more scared of the weapon than the pain.

"Look at me," Axel demanded, in a voice straining to be gentle.

My eyes remained glued to the sharp end of the spear being inserted into my skin. I was appalled, yet I could not look away.

"I said look at me Kairi," he repeated, stronger this time, his hand tightening around my miniscule wrist in an attempt to keep my arm from twitching. Train wreck syndrome. That's what Riku called it. 'Or just being flat out masochistic,' he would add.

I made no effort to vocally respond, but simply acknowledged his demand by averting my gaze to his face.

His blazing green eyes were intense and sharp, staring back at me with such a raw intensity I almost forgot about the fact he was slicing my arm in half. It didn't dawn on me that if we were busy locking pupils, he could not keep an eye on what he was doing. Hence the crook of my arm was in eminent and immediate danger...and I found that I did not care.

I didn't care if his chakram severed my upper appendage. I didn't care if I was an amputee for the rest of my life. I didn't care if his blade sliced through my bone marrow and we were soon to be swimming around in a pool of my own blood. All that mattered was his gaze. All that mattered was that he was looking at me, with such an undiluted, fascination, with such care, with such hidden concern he had never exposed before. His eyes were penetrating me, piercing through my soul, searching for some hidden answer as to why I was so at odds with him. I opened my parched mouth to say something but upon doing so I was immediately greeted with a sharp pain originating from the site of the splinter.

"Ouch!" I wailed, jerking my arm free from his grasp.

I looked down to see fresh blood oozing out of the location where the wooden chunk was previously located.

"Oopsies," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.

"Oopsies?" I repeated. "Oopsies?! You just slit my arm with your stupid chakram and all you can say is oopsies?!!!"

"I'm sorry?" he tried again, smiling coyly.

"How about getting me a band aide!?" I hollered, cradling my arm, as if nursing my wound would make the bleeding stop.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, standing up to leave. I'm pretty sure I heard a grumbled, 'spoiled brat' coughed out under his breath but I couldn't be sure.

"Hey," he called, a little too cheerily, from the bathroom. "At least I got that pesky splinter out!"

"Yeah, by removing a chunk of skin!" I snipped back. "Good job!"

"Better than nothing," he sing songed as he sauntered over to where I was coddling. In his hand was a bunch of paper towels and some duct tape.

"Is that your definition of a band aide?" I muttered, eyes unblinking and large as saucers.

"I don't usually make mistakes," he countered, no room for modesty.

"Don't you ever get injured?"

"I don't bleed," came the barely audible response, so soft and frail it almost died on his lips before hitting the air.

Silence followed.

"Of course you do," I pressed blithely. "Everyone bleeds."

I have my stupid moments, I know. But even I was no so oblivious as to break that particular moment of silent reverence over the fact Axel was incapable of exerting bodily fluids.

"...Well, do you sneeze?" I blabbered equally as soft, not wanting to ruin the moment but not knowing what else to say. Admittedly, it was not the best of ways to break the silence.

"Um, yeah," Axel confirmed, taking my arm and swathing it in a plethora of paper towels, old and yellowing with age.

"How come you have snot and not blood?"

Never mind that fact that if I had had this conversation with someone three days ago I would have written them off as a total loon, which I guess Axel was in a way. But then again, three days ago I didn't have people, or things, trying to hunt me down and kill me.

"I don't know, ask Xemnas," was the tart reply. I chose to let the subject drop and decided pushing the question as to who, exactly, Xemnas was wasn't in my best interest at the moment.

Axel continued to wrap the odd misshaped cast in a roll of duct tape, making annoying sticky tearing noises all the while. The rips were even more intensified by the deadly silence between the two of us. They echoed off the cold and desolate walls, bouncing back a second time to my ears so the ripping could rattle around in my skull more than once.

"I'm tired," I lied, trying to escape the uncomfortable situation.

"Then go to bed."

Such raw geniusness.

"I don't need, like, permission?" I inquired with trepidation not well masked in my voice.

"What are you, two?"

"No...but you are my kidnapper after all..."

"And as long as I don't threaten your life you're fine. You'll know you pissed me off when I whip out my chakrams."

"That was poetically stated," I grumbled.

"Not one for euphemisms," Axel offered simply, making no further efforts to elaborate. That bed was looking more and more appealing.

"Well, um," I studdered, wobbly standing up. "I'm going to bed now, so I hope your PMS wears off by the time I get back. Because having you, like, be like this permanently would, ya know, suck and stuff."

My lame lame lame attempts at concern.

"Aw, you liked me the way I was before?" Axel questioned, voice thick with sugary syrup.

"No!" I quickly shot back. "I hate you! I've always hated you! I still hate you!"

"Well glad we clarified _that_ important matter."

My voice cracked on the last 'hate' but Axel made no attempt to poke fun at it. Perhaps my face was growing that dangerous shade of red it is ever so infamous for when I get peeved. While Axel himself had never informed me of such things, Sora did, when we were eight. "Wowzers Kairi, you face is red as a tomato!" "A sunburned tomato," Riku would add. "With blush on." "Yeah! With blush on! A make up wearing tomato! That's what you are Kairi, that's what you are!"

Oh, how I missed them. Terribly, terribly so.

"You going to bed or what?" Axel snipped.

I readied my tongue for a witty repertoire but my eyes noticed something very interesting at this point. There was red stuff all over the metal floor below me. Blood. My blood. From where Axel accidentally injured me.

My knees wobbled. My head spun. My eyes teared. My vocal chords made a vain attempt to squeak but nothing escaped my parched throat or gaping lips.

"Did you just realize how hot I am?" Axel teased, taking in my paled expression. I had gone from beet red to ghastly white in a matter of seconds.

"...blood," I choked out, pointing.

I don't remember much, except the sickening 'thud' my head made when it came in contact with the cold, metal floor.

And maybe Axel swearing under his breath.


	5. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five_

She tells me she's sick and then expects me to care.

Which I don't, by the way. Not really. It would be different if she were contagious, but circumstances being what they are, even if she was, it wouldn't matter.

"I don't know what you want me to do about it, sweetheart," I said from outside her locked door. I was pretty sure I heard some award winning dry heaving going on in the background. "I think I've got, like, Motrin or something in the closet…"

And I used that not for repressed immune systems so much as I used it for subduing Roxas. That kid was an atomic bomb if given enough chemical enhancement.

"Go _away_."

"Aw, are you still pissed I left you on the floor of my ship again? It's not my fault you have low blood pressure, darling."

"Your pet names are what's making me sick…_honey_."

I love it when she attempts sarcasm. Love.

"I don't use that one often, actually," I mused, tossing the bottle of cough syrup I had been forced to dig out of my bathroom moments prior. Kairi was refusing to open the door because she thinks I somehow spiked the cough syrup and have the intent of molesting her. Which is lunacy. There's nothing to molest. Not even a handful.

Besides, she had said, her mother always told her not to take candy from strangers.

"I don't have narcotics on my ship," I shot back, the humor of my last remark going unreciprocated.

"I'm not taking _any_ drug you give me!"

"If it's already a drug then how the hell could I _spike_ it?"

"…Um, I…I dunno," she started. "With…with more drugs!"

Her IQ rivaled that of her waist size. Which is funny, because I didn't know they came in negative numbers. (Larxene informed me that there are no negative numbers in women's clothing, only size 00 if you wanted to starve yourself to death. Demyx then asked if that was how Larxene got here, and he was answered with a kick in the ass. Ha.)

"You didn't have a problem with eating my food—"

"Because I watched you make it!"

Kairi had had her head in the toilet the entire morning. Nothing else but white porcelain was in her peripheral vision.

Eventually Kairi had grown so irritated at me that she locked me out of her room—well, _the_ room. It was still on my ship. And she was only barrowing it. Temporarily.

"So how about letting me read some of that poetry of yours?"

"…muck foo," was what I heard, but I think the toilet distorted it.

"Alright. Listen, doll, I'm not gonna stand here all night. Here's the cough syrup, I'm sticking it right here, next to the door. If you get desperate enough, drag your head out of the crapper and unlock the thing. Until then, I bid thee ado."

But I didn't get very far.

I don't know why, but I always seem to think of the best ideas three seconds too late.

"Has it ever occurred to you," I began, now right outside her door again, "that maybe, perhaps, this is morning sickness?"

Silence.

I thought for a moment Kairi had gone and suffocated on a wad of her own vomit until the door was thrust open in my face and she full on tackle glomped me to the floor.

"I don't sleep around!" she squealed, voice cracking due to the unprecedented amounts of puking.

"…Well, you aren't doing yourself any favors laying on top of _me_."

Another squeal, followed by the plunk of her body on metal as she darted off my chest.

"You seem to have an affinity with my floor," I noted.

"Why not?" she horsed. "It's warmer than you are."

I think, if I were capable of it, that last line would have hurt a little.

But I'm not, so it doesn't matter.

"Well then you've never seen me try to set myself on fire."

"When the heck did you—"

"Beer. Luxord. Not a good combo."

Kairi sat there, pale and mute, and then threw her hands over her mouth.

"That way," I ordered, directing her head in the opposite direction, but she got up and made it to the bathroom in time.

The door was now conveniently open, at any rate. But I chose not to comment on it, because then she might actually take the initiative to lock it again.

o-o-o-o

Two hours and eight more spews later, Kairi was fast asleep and snoring, compliments of the cough syrup she swore never to drink.

God, I think she swallowed the whole bottle.

And that is why I went in her room. Not to molest her. Not to take black mail pictures. My mind was thinking the words _over dose_ and _anaphylactic shock_ all at the same time. I went in to check out her pulse. Not her chest.

Which would have been an endeavor in vain, at any rate.

She was curled up in the fetal position on the top of the covers, shivering fiercely and muttering something or other about that Sora character in her sleep.

Humans are pathetic. I don't miss being one.

I paused before snatching up her toothpick wrist. I really didn't want her filing for sexual harassment if she woke up while I was touching her. And the shivering already attested to her being alive. Still. I wanted to be sure. Insurance purposes. I don't get to eat if I don't deliver the cargo.

It's surreal to feel the beating of a heart when you cease to have one.

And she was right; I am rather cold. Physically. Not to say that I wouldn't go for a good roll in the hay ('Axel, that's lame, man, no one _says_ that anymore.' I told Roxas to shut up. He's not much better.) so much as my fingers felt like ice in comparison to her skin.

Knowing I could heat myself up on a second's notice did nothing to subdue the fact that Kairi was warmer than I could ever hope to be.

Even in regards to all her hissy fits and crying jags.

Feeling a little guilty, which I shouldn't have been—I shouldn't have been feeling _anything_ anymore—I went into the closet and took out a blanket. I unfolded it and then threw it over Kairi's body, head and all.

I figured if she needed oxygen, she could pop her head out and get _that_ for herself.

I wasn't about to go maternal. God.

After a couple moments of watching the lump of blanket go up and down (I was making sure the shivers had stopped, I swear) I noticed a very ravished looking legal pad sitting beside the sink. Piqued, and always up for a good laugh, especially at someone else's expense, I indulged and began to read one of Kairi's…poems.

Ass Hole Axel

He's as skinny as a rod

He thinks he's God

He's annoying as hell

He makes me want to yell

He is so full of crap

(Here Kairi had crossed out _crap_ and replaced it with _shit_, apparently for rhyming purposes)

He is so full of shit

He thinks he's all it

…And I had to stop, because it was just hurting my brain. And I still had _that_ organ, the last time I checked. I made a metal note of asking Kairi whether or not she managed to graduate high school grammar when she woke up.

Which may be awhile, given the amount of cough syrup she had resorted to.

Who would have known? Kairi's a little crack whore. Maybe if I left out some absinthe she'd drink that, too.

I placed the poetry back on the side of the sink and closed the door so she wouldn't know I was there.

Which was stupid.

Because I left the blanket.

o-o-o-o

And I'm really not _that_ skinny, am I?

I can't help it that I have a high metabolism. At least I don't look malnourished like _some_ people. The Girl probably ate, like, nine calories a day.

Ha. I love how I'm trying to desensitize myself be referring to her as The Girl instead of Kairi. Like I really expected that to work. Come on, Axel. You know yourself better than that. Or, at least you thought you did.

And as for being full of crap, I don't know what she's referring to. She should have listed an incident or a quote or _something_. I can't work with nothing, people. And how does she expect me to know when I'm annoying her, anyway?

'Oh my gosh, Axel! You left me on the floor _again_!'

Alright. So I admit. That was pretty crappy of me.

But I got away with it the first time.

Maybe because she hit her head going down. The second time I caught her.

Be quiet. She doesn't know that.

o-o-o-o

And I'm not annoying, either.

Not like this is getting under my skin or anything. I just think certain matters need to be clarified. Like me being annoying. Or not, in my case.

I'm enlightening. I bring things out in people they wouldn't see most of the time. Usually it's the wielding of some sharp, pointy object. Or just a big hunk of shield that Vexen actually refers to as a weapon.

'Weapons hurt people, Vexen. They're offensive. That thing is strictly defensive.'

'Well _you're_ beingoffensiveto me right now,' he had retaliated, and it just sounded so lame coming from him. I mean, it would sound lame coming from anybody, but usually I try to not piss people off unless I have to. ('Bull crap,' I can hear Roxas muttering.)

And as it turns out, I was wrong and Vexen was right. That shield _does_ hurt when it's rammed up your ass.

At any rate.

There is a fine line between amusing and annoying.

Someone needs to educate her on these matters.

o-o-o-o

"Why were you in my room?"

"Hmm?"

"My room," Kairi was now demanding, standing in the cockpit of my ship like she owned the damn place. She had a hand on her hip and was tapping her foot for emphasis.

"Well, I see that spiked cough syrup did wonders."

She rolled her eyes.

"I got tired of puking, alright?"

"And since when did it become your room, anyway?" I asked without missing a beat. (It's not like I need proof she drank the stuff, she left the bottle lying right out in the hall. Slob.)

"I just assumed—"

"And we all know what that makes you."

She had to think on that one.

"I read your poem," I taunted, and I probably should have taken into account my lack of defense before provoking her, but I needed some answers.

Besides, what was she gonna do? Jump me to death?

And that fact aside, I couldn't exactly die. Kinda gives me the advantage, ya know?

"You _what_?!" she shrieked.

Bloody hell. The volume.

"Indoor voice!" I demanded, hands migrating to my ears before I had massive internal hemorrhaging due to the explosion of both ear drums.

Kairi, frothing at the mouth, started to advance towards me, which made me instinctively summon my chakrams, which, in turn, made her instinctively cower backwards.

For a moment, anyway.

"You're that scared of me?" she smirked, figuring she had some material now. "That you felt the need to summon your—"

"I'm not that skinny," I interrupted. "Your wonderful rhyming skills aside, I would prefer to be referred to as _lean_." I paused. "Which rhymes with _mean_, by the way, so you should have no trouble with that one."

I got some stellar ocular venom there.

"You weren't supposed to see that," she huffed, now all angry and red and puffy looking.

"I kidnapped you," I said. "I don't know how it works on Destiny Islands, but usually when someone gets kidnapped, the kidnapper is allowed to do whatever the hell he wants."

Kairi's eyes grew wide.

"And no, I did not molest you while you were sleeping." I paused. "Admittedly, that would have been less scaring than reading your poetry."

"Are you trying to say molesting me would be emotionally scaring?"

…And I swear to all that is holy and sacred I will never figure women out. Never. I could live nine lives and I'd still be left sitting there scratching my head.

"Are _you_ trying to say you're taking offense to the fact that molesting you—something I negated to do, by the way—would inadvertently hurt _me_?"

Kairi's mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

"The answer to that one is yes, sweetheart," I supplied. "Just in case you were somewhat confused."

"Was not," she rallied.

"Was too."

"Was—I'm not doing this," she said. "I'll go crazy."

"…Does that mean I'd get to tie you up?" I smirked.

Kairi shrugged. "I guess so. How else would you keep crazy people from hurting themselves?"

Holy hell, she did it again. Was she, like, not around boys when she was growing up? I mean, besides Sora (who happens to stand for light and goodness and charity and all that crap.) How does a girl reach the age of fifteen without picking up on these things?

"I need to corrupt you," I muttered, this time not implying anything sexual. I just flat out needed to corrupt her.

Of course, that was where she chose to read between the lines.

"You're not getting anywhere near me!"

I rolled my eyes.

"I don't need to be touching you to corrupt you, sweet—"

Almost as if to prove her—I dunno, corruptive-ness?—she marched over to me and took a swing at my chest.

"I am not your sweetheart!"

I listened to the thud that resounded when her fist came in contact with my body.

"Can we rewind and do this again? I liked it better when you were on top of me."

She spewed, sputtered, and frothed a little more before stalking off to her room—yes, that's right, it's _her_ room—and slamming the door for emphasis.

o-o-o-o

"Are you doing dinner or what?"

No answer.

"Kairi?"

Still no answer.

"You didn't drown in the toilet bowl, did you? Remember, suicide is never the answer."

Nothing.

"…I'll stop calling you sweetheart."

And at this, the door was opened. (Just a little, but it was opened.)

"Promise?"

"…No."

Another lethal glare.

"But I'll try. Real hard." Continued glaring. "I'm not gonna frickin pinkie swear on the thing, kid."

"I am not a kid!"

I inhaled sharply through my nose.

"Look, it's either sweetheart or kid, Kairi. You've gotta choose one of them."

And don't you just love my ultimatums? I do.

"Fine. Kid."

I was surprised. I half expected her to slam the door in my face, thus further proving her kiddiness.

I think I just made up a word.

"But I get to call you something, too," she continued, and this is where I found myself unprepared. I hadn't predicted this.

"Sorry, but Ass Hole Axel has already been taken. It's copyrighted in this poem somewhere—"

"I'll tell you when I think of it," she grumbled, then stepped outside the room. "What you feed me tonight better not make me sick again."

"How do you know it was my cooking that had you keeled over and not something else, like, say, a germ?"

"Because I could identify half of it in the toilet bowl!"

Silence.

"Okay. Ew."

"You asked, ass ho—"

"Nu-uh," I reminded her. "That one's already been taken. You're plagiarizing."

"I can't plagiarize myself!"

I almost said: well what if you're plagiarizing someone else, but figured no one else's poetry could suck that badly.

And we're talking: cheap Hollywood whore suckage here, folks. Brand new Hoover vacuum cleaner suckage, even.

"So…what's for dinner?"

"I dunno. I was gonna ask you the same thing."

There was a silence, and then The Girl kinda smirked a little, and actually let out a laugh.

"We're helpless," she finally concluded, scrubbing her temples this way and that, like massaging her head would make the situation any better. And not to say it was necessarily bad. I got paid for playing with a teenage beach bunny for seven days until I delivered her to Uber Secret Destination Of Doom and even got free entertainment while at it.

And I thought I was done with babysitting missions. Ha.

(I am, mind you. Starting after this one.)

"There's always the microwave," I alluded. "And some mac and cheese."

Roxas lived off the stuff. He wasn't old enough to drink so the kid resorted to heated up cheddar and noodles and called it a day.

…God I miss that twerp.

Maybe just as much as Kairi missed Sora.

No. No, I missed Roxas more. He didn't preach saccharine and Prozac. And he could wield _two_ keyblades. Ergo, he could significantly kick Sora's ass.

Now _that's_ the kind of entertainment I missed.

Though the mishaps that came along with Kairi trying to conquer a microwave were fairly rewarding, too.

Maybe I should teach her how to fight. That could be fun.

(But what the hell would her weapon be? Some cheap, lame ass knock off of her boyfriend's, most likely. Probably infested with flowers or daisies or some girly crap like that. Roxas would die. Again.)

"You think I can keep down cheddar?" she asked honestly.

Hell no.

"Yeah, sure."

It's called sadism. I took notes from Larxene. The psychotic, chronically PMSing snitch that she is.

And then The Girl just nodded and said 'okay, if you say so'—and, and, and, I dunno. I felt my stomach plummet through the floor. Like, she's not supposed to trust me. I'm her kidnapper, dammit, her kidnapper! You don't just take my frickin' word for it, retard. Roxas was my best friend and even _he'd_ double check everything that flew out of my mouth. Said I was more reliable drunk than sober. Which I punched him for. But in a totally loving, best friend way. He responded by ramming his twin keyblades into my gut.

See? Violence is all I've ever known.

Hm, yes. That's my excuse for being a bloody bastard.

(Along with never properly dying, but that's another story.)

"On second thought," I began, watching Kairi stupidly march off to the kitchen to go and ingest the deadly cheddar. "We may be better off with pizza."

"Seriously?" she squeaked, voice still not normal. "But I thought you said-"

"Look, I know what I said, okay? Mozzarella is better for your stomach. Ya know, that whole digestion process and crap."

Zexion's intellect is beginning to rub off on me. What? I can't help it. I'm surrounded by six diabolical scientists day in and day out. I know my shit.

"…That sounded very, um, profound."

Alright. So I didn't word it like he would. He'd be all: 'studies have been shown to prove that mozzarella, in it's organic state, is a more binding and therefore better choice for maintaining homeostasis throughout the duration of the evening.'

…The only word that would interest me in that tirade is 'homeostasis,' and that's only because Roxas and I would nudge each other and make way lame homo jokes until we were on the floor in stitches.

"I'm known for my intellectual capacity."

Kairi blinked at this.

"Bull shit," she concluded, totally nonchalant, and then went off to the kitchen.

God, that was hot.

o-o-o-o

"I'd avoid the pepperonis if I were you."

"…Thanks for your foresight, but I was able to figure that one out on my own."

"I dunno, sweetheart," I drawled. "You seemed pretty gung ho over that cheddar."

Kairi looked up from the oven, face perspiring – though whether it was from the heat or her unrequited wrath I'll never know.

"Sweetheart was officially banned as of five minutes ago," she reminded me, dragging a lanky appendage across her forehead. She paused, probably searching for some saucy little comeback, and then added, "Don't make me tell you again."

"Or you'll what?"

In response to her utter lack of repertoire, I opted to go over and help The Girl out with ramming the frozen pizza into the unsuspecting jaws of my primeval cooking appliance. She just looked so ashamed and embarrassed over her uncalled for pause in mental clarity that I couldn't help myself. Coming up blank in a game of verbal wits wouldn't kill you – Demyx did it all the time and he was still here. Well, sort of.

"Ya know, you don't have to have a snarky comment for everything, Kid."

I lowered my voice so as not to send her hair standing on end – as I seem to have that affect on her. And females in general. Usually followed by a shot at my tenders.

"Why not?" she posed. "You do."

"Yeah, but, Kairi, I'm a _villain_. I've had practice."

"Well how long have you been a villain?"

I was unsure of how to go about answering that.

So, following my own advice, I chose to opt out of a scintillating response and slammed the oven door shut with enough force to shake the walls of my ship.

"Can't count that high?"

"…There you go again with that snark," I grumbled. "Not becoming, I'm telling ya."

She huffed and leaned against the far counter of the alcove.

"Well what else am I supposed to do? Stand here and let you prance all over me?"

"First off, I don't prance anywhere," I countered. "And second off, well, why don't we try having an adult conversation and see how that goes?"

"You mean, like, right now?"

"…Sure. Why not."

Silence.

"Um."

"Think. Real hard. I'll be waiting."

There was a glint in her eye, and for a moment I feared I had set her off again, but the look quickly flickered and went out after about three seconds.

"I miss Sora," she mouthed, barely audible, and the fragment almost died reaching my ears.

"…Conversation, Kiddo," I reminded her, after a moment was dedicated to contemplative reminiscing. "Not a monologue."

Kairi glared. The fire was back. Dammit.

"I was just thinking out loud," she snipped. "Not monolouging. Or…angsting."

"Yeah but what do you want me to say to that?" I grumbled, absent mindedly setting my palm on fire and making the consequential spark jump from finger to finger. "We all miss someone."

She looked at me again, eyes growing large and somewhat sympathetic. It caught me off guard.

"Who do you miss?"

"Meh," was my deft response.

"…I thought you wanted to have a conversation."

"Not about this, Kid."

"Well you pick a topic, then." Pause. "Just stay away from my poetry."

I smirked at the memory.

"Yes, your Nobel Prize Winning compositions. Such poignant pieces they were."

I received one dainty middle finger lurched high in the air. I grinned despite myself.

"Again with your profound literary skills, I see."

I readied myself for another, uncompromised 'muck foo' but I didn't get it.

Kairi sighed and all of the sudden perched herself on the edge of the counter top. Her monstrous feet – compliments of puberty, I'm sure – were swinging from side to side as she gnawed on her lower lip and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. I was once again reminded of just how young she was. And how old, consequently, I was.

Which kinda just sucked on a whole lot of levels.

"So when did you meet this girl?" she tried, appearing to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Wait, what? Girl?" The spit fire I was currently nursing simmered down. "Who said I was missing a girl?"

"Well, I just assumed – "

I could practically hear Roxas hyperventilating next to me, desperately requesting a bucket of brain bleach. Maybe clawing his eyes out due to the unprecedented mental imagery. I dunno.

"You do that too much," I noted.

"So do you."

"Yeah, but I'm usually _right_."

Not really. But the only one who ever had the balls to confront me about it was Roxas. And Larxene. Who quite possibly has bigger balls than anyone in the entire Organization.

I sighed. The only way out of this awkward conversation was turning it around.

"Tell me about Sora," I demanded, trying to appear dismissive but I somehow knew it was terribly unconvincing.

"I thought you didn't want to hear about Sora."

"I don't," I assured her.

"Well then why – "

"It's better than the alternative."

"Oh. The Mystery Mistress?"

My face quirked up. "What the hell, Kid? I already told you, there _is_ no Mystery Mistress."

"Uh-huh," Kairi drawled, unconvinced.

"Fine. Believe what you want."

I would sell both my kidneys just to see the milky sheen on Roxas' face when he found out he was being referred to as my 'mystery mistress.'

Holy Hell. Good times.

…Or, at least they _would_ be.

If he was, like, here and stuff. Which he's not. So I guess I'm keeping my kidneys.

"He treated me like an equal," Kairi blurted out, all of the sudden, with absolutely no warning. It took me a minute to realize we were talking about her long lost best friend and not mine.

"Yeah?" I scoffed. "Then why'd he leave you behind? Why not take you with him?"

"He kind of had to save the world," Kairi grumbled. "Priorities?"

"What's the matter - was he afraid you couldn't carry your own?"

Kairi dead panned. "I thought we were going to have an adult conversation."

I laughed despite myself. "You're referring to Roxas as my Mystery Mistress! I'm sorry Kid, but it's physically impossible for this to be an adult conversation."

…And maybe thinking about that stupid idiot was putting me in a worse mood than I thought.

"So her name was Roxas?"

"His!" I corrected, laughing even more bitterly than before. "Gods, Roxas is a dude!" And before she could ask it, because I knew it was coming next, I shot out, "And no, I am not _gay_."

Kairi's mouth sagged open. "I wasn't even thinking that."

Ha. For once, she doesn't assume, and I go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth anyway. Bravo.

It was then that I chose to look down at my hands and was slightly dismayed to find out that they had set themselves on fire once again – as they are prone to do whenever I get into a heated debate (no pun intended, har har har.) Mostly this habit becomes quite evident when arguing with Larxene, or quite possibly Xaldin, just because his aloofness in general annoys me, but for Roxas to trigger that reaction? Well. I guess it makes sense.

And Kairi was doing a fairly decent job at not, like, totally freaking out given her past affinity with fire. Which was sarcasm, by the way. Don't know if you caught that.

"Um…" she squeaked.

"Don't faint," I ordered. "I can't catch you right now."

Her face went transparent. "You've caught me?"

It was an awkward moment.

"No," I lied. "No, I let you face plant. It was more amusing that way." I inhaled sharply through my nose and let out a string of mollifications in an obscure eastern language. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go to the bathroom and…extinguish my hands."

I left her sitting there, on my counter, alone with a smoking oven and a way over cooked mozzarella pizza.

o-o-o-o

Author's Note

o-o-o-o-o

Blame Hope for the continuation of this fic, of which I had pretty much abandoned and left for the dogs. She made this ridiculously dopamine inducing AMV of it on YouTube (the glorious link is located at the bottom of my profile – you have not truly lived until you have clicked on it) and I felt the need to redeem my former three year old chicken scratch with something that resembled coherency.

Forgive the previous chapters. For they are old and in need of reworking.

At any rate: thank you for making it this far, your persistency will serve you well in life. XD

And thanks Hope for just, ya know, being you.


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter Six_

This just in: I have plans for escape!

. . . . Maybe.

Maybe an escape. A possible escape.

If everything goes right (it won't) and if Axel doesn't hear me (he will) and if I can somehow pilot an escape pod back to Destiny Islands (I can't) then I should be homeward bound!

Okay. So maybe escape is too strong of a word.

I can … provide mild amusement for certain sadomasochistic pyromaniacs while simultaneously making a fool of myself all in the name of a happy ending where all three of us are miraculously reunited and Axel somehow takes the initiative to vanish into thin air . . . after kindly returning us to our home planet.

Alright. I guess I'm not escaping.

Besides, I have to find Sora and Riku.

I will sacrifice my well being for there's (ha; not like I have much of a choice.)

Lemme pretend, alright?

So . . . here's another headline for your viewing pleasure: I am freezing.

Yes. It's got to be somewhere near three in the morning and I am huddled under a lone blanket _someone_ draped over my head in a wayward attempt to suffocate me. (I refuse to accept the fact that Axel was trying to be nice. Refuse.)

Now I'm losing feeling in my fingers and toes. That's it. I don't want to lose any appendages to frost bite – thank you very much. I happen to enjoy using my arms and legs. Without my arms how could I write my poetry?

Yes. My ever insightful poetry.

I should give iambic pentameter a shot – it worked for Shakespeare.

Now if only I knew what iambic pentameter _was_.

Whatever. I'll make it up as I go along.

(I know! I'll write a haiku! They're short – right?)

I opened the metal door that I thought would act as a pretty good sentinel while I slept, but apparently six inches of solid aluminum sheeting isn't enough to deter certain unscrupulous villains from throwing wayward blankets over my head to kill me while I slumber.

It's hard to tell time in space. On Destiny Islands it was fairly easy – if you ignore that fact that the sun always seemed to be either setting or rising (at least when I was off staring into it – consequentially burning the image into the back of my retinas). I assumed it was nighttime, for the digital clock on the dashboard of the cockpit said so, and who was I to argue?

That being said, let's ask the truly emotive question hidden in the last line: who _was_ I?

Existential crisis aside, I decided I'd ask Axel in the morning. He'd have an answer, mostly likely one I'd rather not hear, but an answer, nonetheless. He's just full of answers and hot air and libido and little else. What a package deal.

I needed a plan. This thought didn't occur to me until I was meandering aimlessly around the cockpit and had to decide whether or not to hijack the ship in it's entirety or attempt to locate an escape pod, which I just assumed was a given on a space craft this size – no matter how aesthetically crappy.

Let's face it: I know next to nothing about piloting gummi ships – especially those commandeered by people who wanted to kidnap me. (Or accidentally kidnap me – I was still trying to figure that one out). It probably ran off the blood of virgin sacrifices or some such nonsense. Which would make me a perfect candidate for said sacrifice, but we'll just pretend I never said that.

Glancing at the control panel, I blinked back an epileptic fit. There were enough flashing lights and neon green gauges and red colored alarms to make even the most sedate of people have a conniption. It was blinding. But I refused to faint. Not again. And especially not over something as mundane as . . . a wayward control panel. Seriously.

I have standards.

Realizing my body did not always comply with my aforementioned standards was irrelevant, because I deemed it so. This train of thought would not get me far, but perhaps it would get me out of the god forsaken gummi ship.

Speaking of which, don't pilots usually name their gummi ships?

I assumed Axel probably bestowed an appellation as poetic as a butcher knife, even less so, perhaps – The Heart Throb or The Darkness 500 or Molten Lava. I'd take issue with it if I were planning to stay long enough to _have_ issue with it.

Right now? I didn't much care.

I just wanted to find the escape pod.

(Yes, ultimately I decided hacking was not my forte, and launching myself into the cool oblivion of space in hopes of somehow accidentally crash landing on my home planet seemed as sound an idea as any. Never mind the limited oxygen or the gravitational pull of the moon or re-entering the atmosphere at three thousand degrees fahrenheit. It all seemed inconsequential when it came to escaping the evil clutches of my not-so-evil kidnapper . . . though I'd scarce admit such at the time.)

. . . But how would I find Sora and Riku if I launched myself back home?

(And where was home, exactly? And how do you drive an escape pod? What were Destiny Island's coordinates? Hell – what's a coordinate again?)

So this is what was merrily marching through my brain as I haphazardly poked at anything that looked intriguing and was not . . . red. Or a very disconcerting lime green. I tried to stay away from orange, too.

The walls were lined with the detritus of Axel's daily routine, the flotsam of his life strewn across the hallways for all to see. I suppose he wasn't used to having visitors. I tried to hone in on a panel that would direct me to my only means of escape, but even that was a questionable way to go. Nothing looked official. Axel had masking tape placed above every panel with the title of said panel scrawled across the top in sharpie.

. . . His handwriting left something to be desired.

Much. Much to be desired.

"Oh – goodie!"

After what seemed to be a fruitless endeavor, I saw ESCAPE POD GOES HERE with an arrow pointing to what looked like a garbage chute.

Self preservation told me hurtling my body mass index down some wayward hole in a space craft was not the best idea.

I tinkered with the latches on the corresponding door – one half my size, if that – and eventually pried loose the covering with my bare hands. I thought I deserved recognition for the feat (I didn't even break a nail) but no one was around to give me any. For about three point four seconds, I almost missed Axel.

Almost.

I contemplated leaving a note, but something about that just seemed wrong. Do you really need to worry about being cordial when it comes to kidnappers? I didn't think so.

(But then why was I worrying about it?)

I guess if you have to be kidnapped, Axel was the best way to go.

I slowly contorted myself into a shape vaguely reminiscent of the garbage chute/escape pod/my untimely death scene. I crawled through the dank corridor and emerged on the other side disheveled, panting, and clearly uncoordinated. For my efforts I received a cold holding cell which I presumed to be the much anticipated escape pod. A leather seat was situated front and center, facing at least twenty screens of varying size and shape in addition to a keyboard that glowed a faint blue in the shrouded obscurity.

And that's when the seat kinda started to move on its own.

That's also when I kinda started to freak the hell out.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

I said the only thing that came to mind: "Research for iambic pentameter!"

Axel balked at this, but quickly covered it up by draping a lazy arm over the back of the head rest.

"And what is iambic pentameter, exactly?"

"I . . . I don't know! That's why I'm doing research!"

"You're doing research for iambic pentameter in my escape hatch," he dead panned.

Clearly I had left him unconvinced.

"Well – what are _you_ doing here?" I countered.

Axel smiled at this.

"And since when did the hostage earn the right to question her captor? Also, I don't know if you've noticed this or not – what with all the time you've spend splayed out on the floor in various positions – but this is _my_ ship. I have the right to be anywhere I want. You're the one who should be answering the questions. Not me. Which segues quite nicely into my next inquiry: what are _you_ doing here?"

"I … I told you already," I floundered. "Research for … oh, never mind. I don't even believe my own lines anymore. I was trying to escape. But you probably figured that much out. Clearly I've been spotted."

"Spotted?" Axel scoffed at this. "Sweetheart, you didn't exactly make the endeavor all that hard, lemme tell you." He then made a frighteningly accurate mimicry of: "Oh – goodie!"

"You heard that?"

"Kairi, I can hear you breathing. And, not that this makes much of a difference, but just incase it does – you weren't spotted. That implies you were at least _trying_ to be stealthy."

"But I was!"

"If you say so."

"I wouldn't have even fallen down here if you didn't have such a crappy ship!"

"Wait, wait, wait – hold up, sweetheart."

I seethed in my discontent. Why did he always forgo the use of my actual name?

"First, you're only saying it's crappy because I said it was crappy – otherwise you wouldn't know any better given the fact you've never been on a ship before. Second, why would I design a ship to my captive's advantage? That sounds like something Demyx would do. Third, you were a mistake. An amusing mistake, but a mistake all the same. You just happened to get in my way and were in the wrong place at the wrong time and I didn't want your teenage blood on my hands."

"One could argue I was in the right place at the right time, given how I'm going to save Sora and Riku and all that."

"Oh, so you're saving them now, is that it? Then why the hell were you tinkering inside my escape hatch?"

"I was going to . . . hack it."

"To death, maybe. There are plenty of blunt objects lying around. But I seriously doubt you have any bona fide computer skills. Your nails are too long. They could never appropriately negotiate a keyboard. I mean, Larxene keeps hers filed to a point, but she's into scratching people and all that. Yours are . . . not really designed for a warrior's advantage. Or a hacker's, at any rate."

"Oh please. Now we're arguing the merits of my fingernails? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Think what you want, sweetie. I don't really care."

I opened my mouth to argue but quickly realized he just cut the altercation off at the knees.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, kiddo?"

"Jet lag," I lied. "And, just so you know, this is the worst escape pod I've ever seen."

"So, you've seen many of them, I take it?"

"Well. No. I. Um."

"For your information, it's an escape _hatch_, not an escape _pod_. Hence that crawl space you had such a deft time navigating."

"Do you do anything the easy way, Axel? I mean, a crawl space? What if you seriously needed to use this thing? Then what? Spontaneous combustion or an erroneous gas tank doesn't wait for you to make your way through your precious crawl space before burning you alive. I, for one, happen to think you enjoy things difficult, and I also – _ouch_!"

"Yeah. Standing up is a bitch. I suggest you take a seat. Not like you're going anywhere."

"As I was saying," I stated pointedly, sitting down on the metal grating. At least I couldn't faint if I was already on the floor. "I at least make a nominal effort."

"Not so much with your comebacks, though."

"Okay. Fine. You win! I suck at being stealthy and escaping and making comebacks and being a citizen of life in general. Also: my nails are too long/short, I breathe too loudly, I can't crawl into your lame ass excuse of an escape hatch, and I don't know shit about iambic pentameter. Happy?"

" . . . Among other things, yes."

I didn't even have the energy to figure out what he meant with that last line. See? This is why I missed Sora. What you see is what you get. Riku, too. He was just broodier in general. But at least he was upfront about it. Axel takes three cups of coffee just to dissect, let alone hold a conversation with.

"So now what?" I questioned rhetorically. "Do you sleep down here or something?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Oh, right. Prisoner on board. I forgot. Speaking of which, why not lock my door? Then you could sleep in your own bed."

"But then we wouldn't be having this very riveting conversation, now would we?"

He made a good point.

"So you planted yourself here assuming I'd come looking for a way out."

"Be flattered. At least I assumed you possessed the mental fortitude to look for a way out."

That was the closest to a compliment I would ever receive from Axel. Guess I'd have to make due.

"Also," Axel began, scratching the back of his neck in that way he always does when he's thinking too hard about something, "did you just suggest I lock the door on your own accord?"

"I was being facetious. But call it what you like."

"Wow. Big words for a tiny girl. Be careful – you may topple over again."

"I am sitting on the floor for that very reason, thank you very much."

"Bull. You're sitting on the floor because I'm taking the only chair in the room. Don't flatter yourself."

"The floor is not a flattering position, trust me."

"Hun, I've been in many positions. And you could make any one of them flattering."

I blinked.

"I don't – "

" – get it, I know."

I let that trail of conversation die in the wind.

"Do you have a name for this thing?"

"The escape hatch or the gummi ship?"

"I dunno – either. Both."

"Nope," he said, whirling around in his chair for good measure.

From my vantage point, I could almost see where, if provoked, Axel would make for an intimidating opponent on the battlefield. His war paint looked much more insidious in the low lighting. So did his hair, for that matter.

"Isn't that something guys do? Name their cars and stuff?"

"Does this look like a car to you?"

"No. I've seen Hot Wheels better constructed than this."

"Oh, Kairi. You wound me."

I smirked despite myself.

I couldn't help it, he looked comical with his hand over what would be his heart (if someone as cold as him could be in possession of said organ, I was assuming he wasn't) with that look of mockery he wore so well.

"Pick one," he offered, in an uncharacteristic act of generosity. "You're the only captive I've ever had who's survived this long." And he had to ruin the moment with that addendum. I'll never figure this man out. Never.

"Lucky me," I muttered, the surreal nature of my predicament finally setting in.

"No, luck is more Luxord's style. And we can't have that, now can we? He's a stickler for copyright infringement, lemme tell you."

The obvious question would be: who is Luxord? But Axel doesn't operate in the obvious. So I asked a different question, though not entirely unrelated: "You mean you two wouldn't just fight it out or some such nonsense? He would rather file a lawsuit than have an all out brawl?"

"And what do you know of brawls?" Axel asked, stopping his idle spinning so he could pin me with a look that sent shivers down my spine. I hated how my body betrayed me.

"I don't. Hence why I'm asking."

Wow. That was a relatively well constructed comeback. Better than my iambic pentameter, at any rate.

"You really want to learn how to fight, don't you?"

At first I thought he was just being a condescending ass. It was to be expected. But a few moments later, when he was still looking at me, I realized that perhaps he was attempting to be endearing. Or at the very least serious. Either was cause for celebratory beverages.

I'll probably berate myself for this later, I thought dimly, but alright, I'll play along.

"Yes," I said.

Silence.

At least my confirmation wasn't met with outright hysteria.

It could be a delayed reaction, though.

"Any thought as to what, exactly, you'd be fighting with?"

"Well, you know what they always say," I said lightly, poking at some haphazard panel of levers and the like. "The pen is mightier than then sword."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, kiddo, but no ball point is going to get you far in the throes of a battle. Better off sticking to that proverbial sword. Unless you want to hurl poorly composed catch phrases at 'em. That might do the trick. Render them temporarily incapacitated due to sheer amounts of word vomit – "

"You made your point, Axel."

"Figured as much. Just making sure. And don't touch that, it's the release switch."

I immediately retracted my errant hand.

"Release switch?" I squeaked, panicked.

I nursed the offending appendage close to my chest as though it had come in contact with something truly offensive.

"Yeah. You nearly shot us both out of the escape hatch. Nice one."

"How . . . how can you be so blasé about these things? I nearly shoot us off into destination unknown and you mildly point out I may have accidentally released the entire escape hatch?! How can you do that?"

"Practice," he says, pausing. Then: "Also, I'm lying."

"You're beginning to wane on my ears," I say, standing up, smashing my head against the confines of the hatch, and quickly resigning myself back to the metal flooring.

"I told you not to do that," he dolled out, rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh. "Turns out your ears are not as perceptive as you originally believed them to be."

"Your fault," I jabbed pettily. "I can't think straight when I'm with you."

"And why is that, pray tell?"

"Wouldn't you love to know."

"I would. It'll keep me up. All night. And we wouldn't want that, now would we? An insomniac behind the wheel?"

"I thought you used auto pilot."

"Ah, so you do catch on. Congrats. Maybe tomorrow you'll hit puberty."

"I've already – no, never mind. That's not worthy of my time. We'd be wasting the air in your escape pod."

"_Hatch_."

"Escape hatch."

"Ha; seems like you're doing a pretty good job of wasting it already."

My brow furrowed in protest.

"I thought you were waiting for me to come down here."

"Yes. Waiting. Not hoping. Maybe that lock on the door wasn't such a bad idea."

An irreverent snort escaped my lips.

"I'll start banging things out in morris code. Consider yourself warned."

"Knowing you?" Axel laughed, doing that melodic thing he does with his voice when he hasn't yet resigned it to a smirk or a snort. "You'd actually carry that out." He shrugged one shoulder, as though shrugging both would be too much of an effort. "Impressive. I'm almost tempted to lock you up just for the hell of it."

I paused, not knowing Axel well enough to figure out if he'd carry through with the latter. Was it possible to _ever_ know Axel well enough? I was beginning to have my doubts.

"Go rest," he finally concluded, dismissing me as though I were nothing more than the mere captive I really was.

"I already told you, jet lag!"

My protests were flimsy things more at home in the halls some wayward high school, but I couldn't help it. I hadn't mastered the art of verbal articulation like my cocky assed captain.

(When did I stop referring to him as captor and begin calling him captain?)

"I don't care what you told me," he grunted, whirling around once more for good measure. If not for that, then probably just for theatrics. "Tomorrow is training."

" … Training?" I ventured, genuinely concerned.

"You want to win back this noble prince of yours or not?"

"Well. Yes. Of course."

"It's settled then. I'll teach you to wield a two by four. How does that sound?"

"A two by four?" I repeated.

"Not as poetic as you may have hoped, but improvisation can be a bitch."

"You're . . . gonna teach me how to wield?"

"That's the fancy way of saying it, sure. Most likely you'll just swing the damn thing from side to side and smash various objects. But you gotta start somewhere. Right?"

" … Right," I agreed, albeit voice full of trepidation. "But is it . . . normal to teach your captive how to . . . fight?"

"I think we're beyond normal at this point," he said. "Besides, I'm not scared of you. And I could totally whip your ass. So no worries here. You wanna wield a two by four or not?"

"Yes, of course – anything. I'll do anything for him."

"Fantastic," Axel replied, though a flicker of emotion passed across his face when I made my adamant declaration of devotion concerning Sora and the protection his general well being. The lighting was dismal at best, but I could have sworn I saw hints of … regret?

Now why would that be?

No matter – two by fours lay ahead, and that's where I should be focusing my attention. Not on the weird contortions currently plaguing Axel's visage.

Besides, he wasn't sitting still long enough to glean anything more than happenstance.

In my newfound zest, I bolted upright once more to make for the exit, but instead of colliding with the ceiling as I seemed so wont to do, I was cushioned by the flesh of Axel's hastily extended hand.

I instinctually cowered from the contact, but then looked up through my bangs to regard him with grateful eye contact.

"Um . . . I suppose I should thank you for that."

The air between us seemed infused with something more than just mere oxygen.

"Preferable," he agreed. "But not necessary. I just didn't want your blood all over my escape hatch. It's a pain to bleach out."

". . . How do you know that?"

"Cuz I've had to clean it before," he muttered off hand. "The other guy wasn't so lucky."

I swallowed my bile and tried to find a way to convey my gratitude. At the moment, nothing I came up with seemed like a plausible course of action.

"Better scurry off and finish that iambic pentameter," Axel offered. "Tomorrow's gonna be a big day."

"Why are you . . . helping me?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. It's not all out of the goodness of my heart. I have my reasons."

I knew better than to question his reasons further, the duplicitous things that they were.

Besides, though I wouldn't admit it at the time, I didn't want to ruin the moment.

The very, very awkward moment.

I gingerly checked the top of my head once more, and then ducked back into the crawl space.

I was taken aback in so many ways. Yes, Axel was helping me. This, originally, may seem like the biggest anomaly. But upon further investigation, having someone – anyone – take me seriously was by far the more outlandish of outcomes. Usually I was deferred from playing hero with a pat on the head or a nod of sympathy. Not the opportunity to face my demons head on. No one had ever offered me the chance to prove myself. Perhaps because no one ever believed I could.

"Stop looking at my ass," I admonished once I was halfway through the crawlspace.

Axel chuckled in reply.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

o-o-o-o

Author's Note

o-o-o-o

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely SirenMist. If it were not for her, this story would not have been resuscitated a (second) time during its four year hiatus. Have no fear, the next chapter is already in the works, so they'll be plenty to go around.

Apologies if their banter doesn't seem as well constructed as before. I hope my skills haven't weakened over the years, but it may take me awhile to find my previous KAXEL groove I was so fond of feeding my muse cookies too.

Again: THANK YOU SIREN!

I can not belabor it enough 3


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